


The Attack Dog's Wish

by roanapur



Category: Black Lagoon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Self-Hatred, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27912718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roanapur/pseuds/roanapur
Summary: Attack dogs aren't supposed to think; all they need to do is bite.And they sure as hell aren't supposed to have feelings, much less wishes.
Relationships: Rebecca "Revy" Lee/Okajima "Rock" Rokuro
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	The Attack Dog's Wish

**Author's Note:**

> 4 am rockrevi fic 4 am rockrevy fic  
> i edited this at 4 am (gasp! so surprising) so please point out any errors!!!  
> this is also my first time finishing a fic in revys pov lol

Two Hands, one of Roanapur's most dangerous gunslingers, is weak.

She can destroy the Flag over and over again, riddle some bastard with bullet holes, but when she's got a real reason to pull the trigger, she can't. What a joke.

Her reason is laying on his bed, mindlessly channel surfing, bored out of his mind. He's still got his stupid dress shirt on, although he's unbuttoned it to show his collarbone. Acting all casual, as if Big Sis didn't put a gun to his head today.

Revy is glad she didn't shoot Big Sis; Boris would've made sure she ended up six feet under if she did. And if she died, who would keep _Rock_ from dying?

The bastard's got a way with words, and that's the only reason he's still here. He managed to say something that amused Big Sis, convinced her to spare him. That's a feat not many can brag about.

Still, she wishes she could have done _something_ , instead of just stand there. She doesn't have a way with words like Rock does, and her Berettas were out of the option, but still, she should've done _something_. 

Isn't she supposed to protect Rock?

"Fuck," she curses beneath her breath. 

Attack dogs aren't supposed to think. They're supposed to attack, only when they're told to. Attack dogs don't get attached.

"You alright, Revy?"

Funny that he's the one asking her that.

(Why does he care?)

"I'm fine," she lies, opening the fridge to the minibar. "Anyways, do me a favor and help me out. I can't read any of these."

"Some of them should be in English."

"Yeah, some of them. How am I supposed to tell which one's the strongest?"

"Don't get blackout drunk in the hotel room, Revy," he laughs. "We don't want you to shoot it up like you do back home."

~~What part about that shithole is home?~~

"Fuck you," she says, but smiles. "Come over here and help me."

A pang of guilt strikes her as she hears him groan as he gets off the bed, but she reminds himself it's _his_ fault. He was - _is_ \- the one trying to play God, and fucking around with the order of things. The bruise on his back is what he gets for doing something so stupid.

Rock crouches down beside her, his leg touching hers, but not quite. At this distance, she can see the stubble on his chin, the eyebags forming under his eyes. The smell of his cologne wafts through her nose, and it brings her more comfort than she'd like to admit.

It serves as a reminder that he's still here.

(But there will be a day when he isn't.)

Rock nudges her with her elbow. "Hey, Revy, you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she says, turning her gaze to the assortment of alcohol. "Anyways, which one's the strongest?"

"This one," Rock says, grabbing an expensive-looking bottle. "You mind if we share?"

"Sure, why not."

He pours her a glass, and then himself one. How gentlemanly.

She downs the thing in one go like it's a shot, and hopes the alcohol starts to take effect. It's unhealthy, yeah, but it's the only thing she's got. As far as she knows, there aren't any shooting ranges around here. She'd be surprised if people in Japan even went to shooting ranges.

(Lucky bastards. Most of them won't ever have to hold a gun in their life.)

Revy pours herself a second glass, and forces it down her throat. She can't be thinking like that, especially on a job like this, where Rock's dragging her into every single one of his little games.

Revy _should_ hate him - he's everything he hates, everything she can't be. Empathetic, yet manipulative when he wants to be. Mild-mannered, but bold. He's never touched a gun in his life, even after joining the crew.

But she _can't_ hate him, not when he matches her shot-for-shot at the Flag, not when he picks up the trash in her room even though he doesn't have to. She can't hate him when he looks at her like that, like she's a regular person and not an attack dog. He puts up with a sorry sack of shit like her.

Revy doesn't want to call it love. Two Hands is incapable of love - that's what she tells herself, at least.

But maybe Rebecca is.

No, she's not Rebecca. Rebecca died in Chinatown all those years ago. Rebecca died alongside God and love, and from her ashes Revy was born.

She's on her third glass now, but her mind still doesn't shut the fuck up. Damn her high alcohol tolerance.

"Hey, Revy, take it easy. What happened happened."

Fuck Rock and his empathy. Fuck him for acting so nonchalant about what happened today.

"Says the one who got slammed into the hood of a car."

"It didn't even hurt that bad," the bastard says, having the audacity to smile. "Anyways, we both came out fine."

"That's not always gonna happen, dumbass. Not to mention it was fucking _Balalaika_ , out of all people, threatening to kill you."

"I should be proud of myself, then. I lived to tell the tale."

The glass in Revy's hand is about to shatter. "Proud of yourself for pissing her off? I can't fucking stand you."

"Yet here you are."

"Because I _have_ to be, asshole. Don't try that shit again, or else I'll be the one who's trying to shoot you."

"You wouldn't."

"I would," she lies, finishing what's left of the alcohol in her glass.

By now, she's starting to get buzzed. Thank God. Hopefully, two or five more glasses will do the job. 

Her gaze goes from Rock to the TV. They're interviewing a girl, who looks around Revy's age. She's got a neat, black bob cut, clear skin, and bright eyes. Revy doesn't understand what she's saying, but it's clear the woman's passionate about whatever she's talking about.

Maybe if God was real, she would've been like that girl. Two parents, white picket fence, good college, all of that. Polite and kind, thoughtful and smart.

Maybe then Rock would look at her.

She doesn't blame him for seeing an attack dog. Revy knows she's rude, loud, brash - every negative trait there is, Revy's got it. She never learned to clip her tongue, except when somebody points a gun to her face. She never learned how to be seductive, sway the boys by using charisma. She never learned anything, besides how to use a gun and bare her fangs.

Even if she lacks all the good qualities a person's supposed to have, she wants to do something for Rock. Revy wants to be more than a gun for the man who looks at her with kind eyes.

But even if she wants to be, she can't be. Rock's better off hooking up with Eda. Even if that bitch is too horny, she's at least got charm and tact. Hell, Revy would bite her tongue if Rock decided to go for Balalaika. Her and Rock would probably have intellectual discussions over some vodka or something.

"You're not gonna shower?"

"Don't feel like it," she grumbles with her head in her hand. "You can go first."

"You sure?"

"Before I change my mind." 

Rock laughs to himself before getting up off his bed and gingerly doing away with his dress shirt and undershirt. The bruise is big and purple, contrasting against his skin that's managed to stay pale despite his labor in Roanapur. She can tell it hurts by the way he moves.

"Use cold water," Revy tells him. "It'll help."

"In this weather?"

"Yeah, in this weather, if you want that shit to go away."

He goes into the bathroom to do away with the rest of his clothes, and Revy can only hope he takes her advice. For a guy with a college degree, he's so damn stupid.

Funny, how she's the one calling him stupid, and yet the advice she gave him wasn't even good. Everybody knows you've got to put cold shit on bruises when you first get them. He probably knew that already, but she told him anyway.

She calls him stupid because he wasn't raised in the gutters like most of Roanapur's inhabitants; he never learned how to sharpen his teeth into fangs. He never learned that you should bow down to someone who's got more power than you. Rock defied, is defying, and will defy these rules.

Revy's lived by these rules all her life, but deep down she knows they're fucked up. 

But instead of trying to fight against them, she submitted to them. She accepted them, never questioning their logic. And when she did start to question them (all because of Rock), she pushed those doubts deep down.

What a fucking hypocrite she is, making fun of Rock for being an obedient dog when that's what she is.

She'd rather die than admit this out loud, but Rock is everything she's wanted to be. He's untainted by the ways of Roanapur. He's kind, yet knows when to put his foot down. Rock is everything she could never be, will never be.

Revy doesn't deserve to be by his side. Her hands have too much blood on them, while his are clean. Rock is the sun, and she's the moon. She's got no light of her own. All she does is soak up Rock's.

Revy doesn't want that light to disappear. She wishes he'd burn forever and forever, and selfishly wishes he'd do so just for her.

But Roanapur is a cold and harsh place, where not even the grandest of stars can survive. Roanapur will snuff Rock's light out. 

It's inevitable.

Even so, she wants to prevent that from happening. She'll do anything to prevent that from happening.

(That's what she says, at least. But an attack dog will always have a leash on it.)

"Revy, you can shower now," her partner says, but she doesn't hear him.

"Revy?"

Fuck. Was she spacing out?

"You alright?" he has the audacity to ask.

Revy puts on her usual façade, and shoves his hand off her shoulder. "'Course I'm fine."

_I'm fine, as long as you keep burning._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you 4 reading <33  
> and if you left kudos i love you sm


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